


Bouquet, Body, Finish

by Zai42



Series: October 2020 [24]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Body Worship, Dry Humping, Groping, Nipple Play, Other, Semi-Public Sex, Wet Clothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zai42/pseuds/Zai42
Summary: Staring would be gauche, leering doubly so, and yet.Prompt: Body Worship
Relationships: Vesseek/Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming)
Series: October 2020 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946893
Comments: 22
Kudos: 29
Collections: A Wilde Ride October Collection





	Bouquet, Body, Finish

His reputation for hedonism aside, Wilde considered himself a man of somewhat more refinement in his appreciation of the physical form than others. He had never understood or prescribed to the idea that a body was meant to be slavered over like meat; rather, the person in their entirety was to be savored like wine, sipped at, delighted in from bouquet to body to finish.

Staring would be gauche, leering doubly so, and yet.

The downpour had come and gone quickly, fat warm summer raindrops soaking through hair and clothes and soft fur before dispersing once again into hazy humidity. Vesseek’s shirt, thin and white, clung to them, to the soft curves of their hips, the modest swell of their breasts; Wilde could see the dusky flush of their nipples, peaked beneath fabric drenched into transparency.

The gentlemanly thing to do would be to offer his jacket.

Instead he dragged them off the road, into a copse of trees, ignoring their squeak of surprise and all but stumbling to his knees before them. “What - ” Vesseek managed, and then Wilde had tugged them close with one palm flat against their back, the other cupping a breast, thumbing over the firm peak of a nipple through their shirt. Vesseek sucked in a gasp. “Oh,” they said, glancing not-quite-nervously at the road. “S-someone could _seeeeaahhhfuck.”_

A delightful thing about goblins - one that Wilde didn’t quite dare bring up around Grizzop for fear of retribution - was just how much of them Wilde could be touching at once. And Vesseek in particular was a very lovely goblin to be touching, soft and sweet and responsive, their spine arching beneath Wilde’s fingertips as he closed his mouth over one of their tits, sucking gently. Their hands came up to tangle tentatively in Wilde’s hair, their hips swaying forward. “Ah,” they said, sounding dazed, and Wilde glanced up at them through his eyelashes. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and blushing. Wilde licked deliberately across their nipple, tongue soft and wet, the fabric of their shirt rough, and they tipped their head back, groaning. “Don’t stop,” they said, voice high and wavering. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Wilde had no intentions of any such thing. He nipped lightly at the curve of their breast, fumbling blindly for their buttons. He hummed, pleased, as his fingertips finally brushed over Vesseek’s skin, smooth and warm beneath a layer of soft fuzz; he could nearly engulf both their tits in one palm. Instead he stroked both hands up their ribcage, squeezing at their chest, relishing the soft glide of his hands over fur and flesh, the hot press of their nipples against his palms. He shifted onto one knee, pulling back just far enough to quirk an eyebrow at Vesseek, but they were already scrabbling to straddle his thigh, rutting against him with abandon, tugging him back towards them.

Wilde kissed down their neck, sucking bruises down their throat and across their collarbones, along the tops of their tits; he bit gently at one nipple, balancing Vesseek with one hand on the small of their back, the other coming up to tug lightly at their other nipple, pulling gently but inexorably until they swayed closer with a cry.

The soft, warm weight of Vesseek in his lap prompted a soft groan from Wilde, parting his lips to lick obscenely at Vesseek’s skin. “Darling, when we get home,” he murmured, mouth still pressed against them, “I want you to fuck me until I forget my name.”

Vesseek made a high, punched out sound, their hips grinding hard into Wilde’s thigh, and Wilde felt them twitch rhythmically against him, even through the layers of clothing between them. They sagged against him and Wilde murmured praise into their ears, stroking his hands down their waist, pinching gently at their hips, the tops of their thighs. When they pulled back, the bruises from Wilde’s mouth were already blossoming. Wilde smiled and ran his finger along the edge of a particularly dark one at the base of their throat.

They really were lovely.

They slid off Wilde’s lap and clung to his hand as they regained their legs, shivery and sated. They plucked halfheartedly at their buttons. “Here,” Wilde murmured. He pulled off his jacket, dropped it heavily over their shoulders; they swam in it, an oversized sea of bottle-green fabric, and their ears flicked as they looked down at themselves and then back up at him, one eyebrow quirked. “For the rain,” Wilde said, dropping a kiss to their forehead.

“What a gentleman,” Vesseek said, bundling the jacket tight around them. They started back towards the road, glancing at Wilde over their shoulder. “Let’s get going, then,” they called. “I seem to recall we have an appointment when we get home.”


End file.
